Lynne Barrett-Lee - Able Seacat Simon

Hett shook his head. ‘I really wouldn’t like to say, sir.’

It was soon clear that we also weren’t alone on the river. Not that we’d expected to be. The captain knew that the communists upriver almost certainly would have alerted their comrades by now that the Amethyst had eluded them and was on her way. And it seemed they had, because a patrol boat was already speeding out to meet us, opening fire with tracer shells as it ploughed through the dark water.

I don’t think there could have been a man or beast on board who wasn’t once again holding their breath as we neared the boom. I thought once again of my mother, and how she’d told me that, sometimes, all you have to fall back on is instinct; a voice inside which you must listen to very carefully.

I looked across at the captain, and I could see him doing exactly that; trying to conjure up the instinct that would tell him what to do to preserve the safety of his ship and the lives of his men.

‘Five degrees port!’ he said at last, his voice strong and decisive, and, as we watched and waited for the sickening crump of metal that would mean he’d made the wrong choice, it was as if time had slowed down to an agonising crawl.

But he hadn’t made the wrong choice. The single light slid silently by us and, though I doubt they really did, given the still precarious nature of our bid for freedom, I felt sure I could hear the men cheering below.

‘We’re not out of the woods yet, Simon,’ Captain Kerans was quick to warn me, as I leaped back up onto the electrical box in order to resume moral support. ‘Bridge to wheelhouse,’ he said, ‘Woosung – what time are we likely to get there?’

‘Around 03:00 hours, sir,’ came Frank’s voice up the voice pipe, ‘barring any more unforeseen incidents. Though I doubt we’ll get past without some sort of response from them, do you?’

The captain didn’t really need to answer.

There was one unforeseen incident, just before the fort at Woosung was reached. We were travelling fast – still as fast as the Amethyst could manage – the same full, and – barring gunfire – unstoppable 22 knots. The Chinese junk that suddenly loomed in front of our bows was no match for us, and left little room to take avoiding action. The smaller boat was sliced clean in half.

There was no time to wonder if the crew had leaped to safety, as almost as soon as we’d left the junk’s debris in our wake, the fort’s searchlights began dancing on the water.

‘Here we go…’ observed Lieutenant Strain, his profile grim as he raised his binoculars. ‘If they didn’t know then they must surely know now. If we’re for it, this is where we’re going to cop it.’

But then a curious thing happened. Though the searchlights repeatedly found us, not a single shore gun opened fire, not even when one of the lights caught us in its beam and rested on the ship for almost half a minute.

‘Well, I’ll be jiggered,’ said Hett, as the light slid away again.

‘What on earth’s going on?’ wondered Fearnley, who’d now joined us on the bridge.

‘Do you know what, men?’ Captain Kerans said, lowering his binoculars. ‘I think they’ve had enough. I think they’re actively letting us pass.’

‘ Really , sir?’ asked Hett, voicing exactly my question. After the way they’d attacked before, it seemed hard to believe.

‘I do,’ he said, visibly beginning to relax now, as the lights of the fort began sliding back astern. ‘I wonder if perhaps they feel well rid of us, don’t you, Number One? Yes, I think that might be it. In fact, I’m sure I’m correct,’ he finished. ‘I suspect Mao Tse-tung is very glad to see the back of us.’

There was a sound from below. A familiar one, too. A distinct ‘woof!’. Peggy obviously agreed.

We were united with the fleet – well, our friends on HMS Consort , who’d come steaming along to greet us – just as we cleared the river’s estuary. Now it really was time for congratulations and celebrations. We’d spent a full 101 days trapped up the Yangtse, and we were finally back on the open ocean.

As soon as we were free – and, oh, how glorious it was to be out on the open sea again! – Captain Kerans had Jack send a message. ‘Have rejoined the fleet south of Woosung. No damage or casualties. God save The King.’

And The King, to the delight of everyone on board, signalled back.

‘Please convey to the commanding officer and ship’s company of HMS Amethyst my hearty congratulations on their daring exploit to rejoin the fleet. The courage, skill and determination shown by all on board have my highest commendation. Splice the mainbrace.’

Needless to say, everyone did.

The next twenty-four hours passed in something of a blur. The Concord came alongside us and resupplied us with much-needed oil, and then, soon after dark, we were joined by another ship, the Jamaica , which was carrying all our mail – this had the men almost beside themselves with excitement. There was also a band, who were out on deck and playing for us, as she steamed all around us, a tune Frank said was called ‘Rolling down the River’.

‘Not that we had much chance to do any rolling!’ he pointed out to Petty Officer Griffiths as we watched them from the quarterdeck. ‘Rolling? No ruddy time for any of that!’

There was no time for anything much at all now, as in a little over two days we’d be in docked in Hong Kong, the ordeal finally over, where we’d been warned that there was ‘one hell of a reception’ waiting for us, as the captain put it.

I wasn’t sure what ‘one hell of a reception’ might feel like, but with the mood on board so buoyant, I was as swept up in the atmosphere as everyone else was. Had I a tail like Peggy’s, I would have wagged it. As it was, I hadn’t – my own tail ‘wagged’ for rather different reasons – but I don’t think I’d spent so much time purring in months.

‘You know, young fellow,’ Captain Kerans said, as we steamed towards home, ‘you’re still so very young, but I reckon you’ve lived more lives than many cats do in their entire lifetimes!’

I thought I probably had, too.

And then, before I knew it, we were home. Gazing out towards the hills that rose steeply in the distance, I felt almost as if we’d never been away.

It was good to see Hong Kong again. Good to see the sheer, happy bustle of it. Good to see the sampans bobbing in the bay, their brightly coloured sails like the wings of so many butterflies, all of which had chosen this perfect shimmering bay on which to settle.

Approaching the docks, I was also pleased – if a little overwhelmed – to see the thousands of people who had come out to welcome us back.

In truth, I found it difficult to believe what I was seeing. Despite there having been many signals back and forth to prepare us for the escort we’d be receiving – and for the throng that would likely be greeting us – the sight of all the sailors lining the decks of the escort convoy was quite astonishing. Even more astonishing was the sheer volume of the cheers and whoops and whistles that kept ringing out, again and again, across the bay.

Peggy, true to form, was like an animal possessed. Had it not been so firmly attached to the rest of her, her tail would have been in danger of becoming detached. As it was, she was kept from getting too over-excited by a makeshift leash tied around her neck, which seemed to be fashioned from a length of sailmaker’s twine. At least it kept her from leaping bodily into the water at the dockside, which had been suggested several times as a strong possibility. It also silenced her to an extent, because she couldn’t seem to understand that if she strained too hard against it, it prevented her from barking, so she kept trying to do both at once.